Theatre 7A
by hiimian
Summary: The arrival of the patient in operating theatre 7A interrupts the bustle of Amity Park General.


Happy Friday everyone! I got FANTASTIC news yesterday (I was accepted into a very prestigious design masters program here in Italy!) so I decided to celebrate by publishing this oneshot I've been holding onto for a rainy day.

It was distantly inspired by another oneshot that ended up going nowhere. I do love a bit of a taste of everyday life for the background characters in a show. (Shoutout to that guy in Iron Man 3 that said "Honestly, I don't even like working here; these guys are so weird.")

Enjoy!

* * *

General Notes:

"This is dialogue."

 _'This is thought.'_

 _This_ and THIS and *this* are emphasis. The *this* emphasis is more along the lines of the snarky or sarcastic.

Takes place anytime pre-"Phantom Planet."

I do not own _Danny Phantom_.

Originally published: Friday, July 27, 2018

* * *

 **THEATRE 7A**

* * *

Not for the first time, the halls of the emergency room bustled with the aftermath of a particularly vicious ghost attack. Nobody had been gravely injured, fortunately, but there were countless broken bones and wounds needing stitches. Families waited patiently with their loved ones as the nurses and doctors raced to care for everyone in a timely manner. Despite their best efforts, though, that late Friday night was utter chaos in the whitewashed wings of Amity General.

Regardless, a sort of peace was beginning to settle on the crowds after almost everyone had checked in. At least, the room _had_ gone relatively tranquil until a single nurse came sprinting from behind the counter and rushed outside. At first, the waiting public only gave her a fleeting thought; a rushing member of staff was not an uncommon sight in the emergency room, after all. But the woman came back inside moments later and headed straight for the check-in desk's phone.

"Doctor Dockery, please report to the ER drop-off zone. Doctor Dockery to the ER drop-off zone. Thank you," she paged before running outside once more. Another nurse followed her, and another, and soon a fleet of staff was running outside or trying to scoot people out of the way of the doors.

Next, a man in scrubs burst from the corridor and joined the rest of the gathering staff outside, out of sight and hearing of the waiting room. The occupants of the room perched in their seats, knowing this was merely the calm before the storm. They watched the closed automatic doors curiously, waiting for what would happen next and murmuring to themselves about what could possibly warrant such a panicked reaction from such a large percentage of the staff.

Just as everyone had fallen into an uneasy silence, the sliding doors whooshed open and caused a few people to jump in surprise. Dockery reentered, unleashing a cacophony of noise and a legion of firemen behind him. "Everyone step back! Make room!" a fireman shouted as his crew pushed the remaining people aside.

"Operating theatre 7A," Dockery barked. Just behind him and the firemen, the nurses scurried with countless clipboards in hand, staring at their contents with confusion as they guided a single gurney.

Due to the enormous group of emergency workers escorting the unconscious figure, everyone brimmed with curiosity at who the person could be, but the person's form was shrouded by the medical staff. A few people closer to the path, however, managed to get a fleeting glimpse of who lay on the heavily guarded bed.

There was no mistaking the shock of dirty white hair and lacerated black jumpsuit.

A final group of EMT's took up the tail of the parade, carrying an assortment of supplies and things no doubt from the attack site including a heavily dented thermos. The doors to the back corridor gently shut behind them, closing the public off from the panic and leaving them even more apprehensive than before.

"It was the ghost kid…" someone mumbled in shock.

Everyone was startled once again when the sliding doors flew open again. Two teens tumbled inside, nearly face-planting in their haste. The girl breathlessly tugged on a nurse's arm, the boy resting his hands on his knees as he panted for air.

"Where?!" was all the girl managed to ask.

"I'm sorry miss, I cannot disclose patient information until their families have been-"

"He's a ghost! What family could he possibly have?!"

"Once again, I'm sorry, but protocol states-"

The girl whirled on the families waiting. "Does anyone know where they took Phantom?" she demanded, though the true desperation on her face betrayed the commanding tone of her voice.

"I heard someone say theatre 7A?" one small kid suggested meekly.

"Thanks!" The girl grabbed the boy by his elbow and dragged him past the nurse.

"Hey! You can't go back there!"

Suddenly, it was the boy pulling the girl as she tore to get at the nurse.

"YOU WANNA GO, NURSE JOY? YOU WANNA GO? I WILL _TAKE_ YOU!"

"Sam! Not worth it!" the boy rasped and successfully dragged her through the doors to the hall of operating rooms. The nurse sighed as she watched the pair easily duck and dodge through the craziness of the emergency room corridors. She quickly ran to the counter, furiously dialing a phone number on the desk phone.

* * *

"Severe hypotension? 82-over-40? Resting heart rate of 30 BPM? How is this kid even alive?!" Doctor Dockery asked as he hurriedly perused the EMTs' charts.

"He isn't, though…" a nurse argued weakly.

"Tell that to his vital signs. The fact that they even exist…" Dockery anxiously rubbed his forehead with the back of his gloved wrist. Living in Amity Park meant regular exposure to the impossible, but he still never felt truly adjusted; his daughter Star's attendance at the most regularly attacked school in town didn't help his golden hair grey any slower either. But a 'dead' teenage superhero with a registerable heart rate and blood pressure? This was beginning to feel slightly beyond him.

"Can ghosts even have blood pressure?" someone mumbled.

"Does anyone have the Fentons' number?" An intern suggested.

"Like they'd do anything to save him," a nurse responded bitterly.

"Nurse Baxter, what's his temperature?" Dockery asked.

"Hypothermic. 15 centigrade. Go figure," she reported.

"How the heck are we supposed to help this kid? He's a _ghost!_ "

The doctors glanced at each other warily as they pulled his signature suit down to his waist and inspected Phantom's body. He was apparently unconscious, and his face contorted in pain. "Multiple lacerations on the chest, neck, face, and inner left thigh; heavy bruising on the apparent ribcage, two potential fractures; signs of internal bleeding — er, ectoplasm. He's not looking too good," Nurse Baxter surmised.

"He's a ghost, why are we even trying to save him?" someone groaned.

"Because every life - before or after death - is worth something to someone!" Baxter answered with righteous indignation.

As if on cue, two teens threw open the door and came sprinting into the room. The entire staff froze and stared them down. Dockery looked them up and down. The pure worry and determination in their expressions was undeniable.

"Get out of here! This is a sterile environment!" another doctor hissed.

"We know how to help him!" the girl replied.

"Who are _you?!_ "

"We know *pant pant* the Fentons," the boy added. He took out a capped syringe of glowing green liquid, seemingly as proof.

"Look," the girl began, somewhat breathless herself. "There's no time for us to explain, and there's nothing we can say to make you trust us. But you have to. This-" she grabbed the syringe and held it out expectantly for someone to take "-is called Ecto Dejecto. — Ignore the name, it actually helps. We've seen it work. — Inject him with 100 milligrams, and you probably won't have to do a thing."

No one dared move. The girl's face became more and more frantic as each second passed, the tension mounting with every incessant beep of the heart monitor. Doctor Dockery made eye contact with Nurse Baxter, just as much indecision on her face as on everyone else's.

"P-please," the boy finally implored. "He's- he's our friend! I know he's just a ghost to you, but-" He gulped, and his voice became husky, eyes glistening behind his glasses. "You gotta help him!"

The nurses waited at the sides for direction from the doctors. Countless silent conversations flurried around the room as everyone looked to everyone else for cues on what to do. Dockery and Baxter, though, hadn't looked away from each other. Their eyes were locked, the two of them seeming to build a telepathic channel of communication as they came to a decision together. Whatever these teens had brought, it appeared as if their loyalty and care for Phantom had driven them to sprint across town. Figuring his team was at a loss anyway of how to save a ghost's life, the mounting stress and dwindling time drove Dockery to speak a single word:

"Alright."

Dockery pushed through the large group of staff and reached out for the syringe. The girl sagged in relief as he weighed it in his hand. Without a word, a nurse sterilized the inside of Phantom's right elbow and looked for a vein.

"Now I must insist you wait outside," Dockery demanded. He gestured to the door. The two teens silently nodded and sulked out of the room.

* * *

As they stood at the window looking into the operating room, Tucker nervously wrung his beret in his hands while Sam crushed her spider backpack against her chest. They felt like the two most anxious sentries ever to serve. With the only lighting in the room being the work lights over their friend, it gave them the impression of an _actual_ theatre rather than operating theatre 7A.

"He'll be alright, right? I mean, we told them the dosage, and there were still signs of life?" Tucker said with no confidence.

Sam sighed. "I think so, Tuck. He's too headstrong to just give up."

"Thank God they listened to us. I don't know if I would have."

"And thank God they called off the security team."

They watched as the syringe was inserted into Danny's arm and the appropriate dose was administered. Tucker cringed and turned away the instant the needle touched skin. Despite everything, Sam couldn't help but give Tucker a small smile.

"I gotta say, I'm proud of you," she said fondly. Tucker turned to her, puzzled. "We've been in a hospital for 5 minutes and you haven't complained or fainted."

"Don't get used to it," he replied. He curled in on himself slightly and looked slightly queasy. "I'm only here because Danny needs us."

Sam scoffed. "Why'd he have to go and fight that bear-wolf thing without any backup? Stupid, infuriating moron…"

Suddenly, they watched the heart monitor flatline, and the room went into a frenzy. Tucker winced under the strength with which Sam gripped his bicep.

"He's not, is he?" Sam insisted. "He's _not_. He is _NOT_." She pulled Tucker to her side and nearly squeezed him into unconsciousness as they watched the staff panic.

"I think it's just the initial reaction where they always dim before healing. It has to be, it _has_ to be…"

A doctor hurriedly prepared a defibrillator while a nurse applied gel to Danny's chest. All they could see from outside was the movement of the doctor's jaw beneath his mask, an unheard shout of "Clear!" passing his lips.

Just as the pads made contact with Danny's chest, though, a single heartbeat pinged on the monitor. But, the doctor was already pressing the activation buttons. As the current jolted through Danny, his aura flared and sent out a massive aqua-white pulse of energy in response to the shock.

It swept through everyone present and passed through the walls as if they weren't there, not leaving a single room in a hundred-foot radius untouched. The bulbs in 7A and the hallway flashed and exploded as an EMP bombarded the hospital's systems. Sam and Tucker, along with all the staff inside the room and scurrying about the corridor, crouched and shielded themselves from cascading shards of lightbulb. Devices left and right throughout the emergency room malfunctioned before rebooting as quickly as possible. The hustle and bustle inside the operating theatre and throughout the emergency wing ground to a halt as everyone held their breath, most people mystified by what was going on.

After a couple seconds of delay, the emergency lighting switched on and illuminated the corridor and operating room. The doctors cowered as they hesitantly approached the bed again where Phantom lay, his ethereal aura glowing bright as the morning sun. The lead doctor reached out to take a pulse at the boy's neck and visibly relaxed. The heart monitor then successfully rebooted and confirmed that Phantom's heart had indeed restarted. Multiple relieved breaths were simultaneously released on both sides of the glass. Sam and Tucker's side hug turned into a full one.

"See? I told you," Tucker prodded without any conviction whatsoever. They let go of each other and returned their attention to the operating bed. Though he still lay unconscious, Phantom's skin had begun to repair itself, as did his jumpsuit.

"He's gonna be alright…" Sam confirmed wistfully. They exchanged truly joyous smiles.

The following muffled scream rattled them from their momentary relief, and the pair pressed themselves anxiously against the glass once again. One intern now lay unconscious on the floor while the rest of the team stood with their hands covering their mouths. The main doctor appeared deeply troubled and shook his head lazily.

On the bed lay Danny _Fenton_.

"Oh…shit." Sam tried to tear open the door to do damage control, but the still-malfunctioning electronic lock kept them from entering. She rattled the handle relentlessly before rushing back to the observation glass. Their faces and palms pressed against it, Sam subconsciously clawing at the reinforced window as if that would create an opening to pass through. "Oh SHIT!"

* * *

The intern found support from his colleagues as he stood once again. Nobody could figure out what to say.

The Fenton parents were by no means celebrities in Amity Park, but they were known and recognized by all, due to the innumerable times anti-ghost safety protocols that had to be established during various attacks and invasions. Their kids were just as familiar because of the exposure. There was no doubt, then, that the controversial protector of the town — the hated, loved, feared, admired hero — was none other than Danny Fenton.

And based on his friend's reactions on the other side of the glass, they knew and wanted absolutely no one else to know.

"He's- he's just a kid," spoke the nurse who had questioned helping the boy at all. "He's a normal, living, breathing kid…"

"I think normal's a bit of a stretch," a doctor quipped, though it was devoid of true mirth and cynicism.

"Do you think his parents know?" someone asked quietly. "The way they hunt Phantom down…"

The rest of the staff merely exchanged stupefied glances while Dockery stoically observed. Danny's healings slowed to a halt, leaving him with some angry cuts on his torso and lessened but still visible bruising under the skin. Despite that, the beeping of the heart monitor had accelerated to an almost-normal resting rate. No longer a countdown, it had become a reassurance that Danny Phantom — and Danny Fenton — would live.

Doctor Dockery let out a slow breath as the staff once again waited anxiously for instruction. He stared at Danny's visibly relaxing face, glancing occasionally at his friends in the window as more and more understanding built in his mind. Phantom was very much alive, and still was thanks to his friends' dedication and blatant disregard for hospital protocol.

Baxter's words returned to him: every life is precious. It was an assurance that Dockery already held his patient's lives in his hands; safeguarding another in this way felt like part of that responsibility. He would be damned before he let the hero's livelihood be threatened by gossip which would no doubt spread like wildfire.

"We saw nothing."

Everyone's attention snapped to Dockery. He looked resolutely between his coworkers, each with varying degrees of determination and understanding on their faces as they met his steely gaze.

"After rapidly healing from his wounds, Phantom disappeared into the night," he elaborated. "Danny Fenton was found unconscious at the attack site and brought in soon after with severe lacerations and bruising to his ribcage. Am I understood?" he finished in a tone that allowed for no disagreement.

A smattering of "yes-sir"s was his reply.

"Everyone must swear." He raised his right hand into the air. Nurse Baxter was the first to copy his gesture and looked at everyone else with an expression which _dared_ them to disagree. One by one, their hands raised until every person present agreed to take on the burden of a secret for their town's hero.

Unified in secrecy, they all turned in unison to face the two teens at the window. Their pleading eyes almost cracked the seasoned surgeon's commanding demeanor, but Dockery stood strong. He gave the two a single, curt nod. They smiled with tears in their eyes.

"Alright, everyone." The temporary paralysis overshadowing the group released as the staff kicked back into action. "Nurse Baxter, please check Daniel Fenton into operating theatre 8C and prepare the room for surgery. Nurse Hanson, please alert the Fentons of their son's whereabouts. And for Pete's sake, someone get those kids some chocolate or something!"

* * *

Once again, I thank you for reading and always welcome feedback! _Recognized_ chapter 4 is still in progress but will be out relatively soon since my courses have finished for the summer.

Hat tip to whoever caught the [admittedly fairly obvious] Pokemon reference. As you may know, I love including little references and easter eggs in all of my stories. ;)

Until next time!

-hiimian


End file.
